


With No Masters but Ourselves

by TheFire_in_the_NightSky



Series: The Virtues in Vices [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Act III, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blasphemy, Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sebastian doesn't renew his vows, What Have I Done, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 12:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFire_in_the_NightSky/pseuds/TheFire_in_the_NightSky
Summary: A wee, niggling part of his conscience thought he should fall to the familiar shield his piety had become, butMaker’s breath,was he weak for the touch of this man.“You have seen me when no other would recognise my face… You composed the cadence of my heart.”Each blasphemous word that left Sebastian’s mouth brushed their lips together just enough to make his heart race with the mimic of a kiss.  He could nearly feel the thrum of Fenris’s pulse in his wrist where it rested against his jaw, fingers still twisting and twining in his hair.Fenris swallowed, a hitch in his breath. “Am I threatening your precious vows?”Sebastian chuckled a bit at that and pulled back slightly to look at him. “Fenris, I have not renewed my-” He tried to say, but Fenris won him over with a request he could not argue.“Then stay and be with me.”





	With No Masters but Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cullenlovesmen (handersmyheart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handersmyheart/gifts).



> Ahhh, so this was for a Sebris prompt given to me by cullenlovesmen (handersmyheart), "the smell of rain." And it uh... got out of hand? Little did they know, writing about anything to do with rain is my jam. I listened to "Rev 22-20" by Puscifer and "Afterglow" by CHVRCHES quite a bit while writing different parts of this.
> 
> *** POV change between Sebastian and Fenris will be denoted by "//"***
> 
> So, this is my first time writing a proper fic for these two together, and good gods, I hope I've pulled it off!

  
  


His breath stirred tiny flames to dancing while carefully reaching across the altar to replace the short little crimson coloured nubs of wax with new pillar candles.  Each stood like some bloodied, proud, protecting soldier before the Maker’s bride. Closing his eyes once all wicks were set alight, Sebastian inhaled the heady aroma of myrrh and sandalwood that curled and carried within thin white smoke around the large hall.  All was quiet in the Chantry but for the steady din of rain against windows. If he listened carefully, he could perhaps catch the whisper of Chantry robes as his brothers and sisters in faith carried on with their own duties readying for evening prayer. But Sebastian concentrated on the calming sound of the rain as he knelt on one knee in silent prayer before the large bronze effigy of Andraste that towered before him.  

Soon, the pattering against glass turned into a noisy downpour that reminded Sebastian of the sound of so many coin hitting the notched and stained tabletops of the Hanged Man during games of Diamondback or Wicked Grace he guiltily participated in some nights with Hawke and her companions.

He cursed himself - whether for letting such recollections invade and break his pious thoughts or for knowing he _enjoyed_ and looked forward to those evenings - Sebastian wasn’t sure.  At times, those nights filled with raucous laughter, swearing, and tavern swill or bitter wine made Sebastian think too closely on his time before his family gave him over to the Chantry.

He did not want to miss it.

Not for the first time, and likely not the last, Sebastian wondered what he was doing here; in this holy building, in Kirkwall still.  Though he’d found himself grouped in with companions of Hawke’s that either teased or scoffed at him, there were a few (including Hawke herself) who believed in him and his cause.  Those who believed he could do more back in Starkhaven than here with the weight of prayer and vows on his armoured shoulders.

Or perhaps they were merely blowing smoke up his arse.

But there was one weight he would gladly bear unquestionably, should a wayward elf ever so need somewhere to lean…

He stayed for _him,_ and he stayed because maybe there was still too much good he could do for Kirkwall.  Mayhaps he wasn’t ready. He dug his heels in because he waited for a sign that he might be _wrong,_ or that the fog of his indecisiveness might finally part to reveal something right.

Sebastian shook his head as if he could loosen those thoughts from his mind like shaking dust from old linens.  His traitorous heart continued to force him tiptoeing lines thin as the wire of a harpsichord. It was only a matter of time before he’d lose his balance and fall to one side, or perhaps the line would simply snap beneath him, leaving him free-falling from the burden of choice completely.  

He asked for Andraste’s forgiveness and as he stood, then his mind began to work loose a question of guidance to the Maker before it all folded in on itself with the slam of the heavy Chantry door and a sharp gasp from the hall below.

Quickly, Sebastian rushed to the bannister and watched one Chantry sister consoling another who'd just rushed in.  “What is the matter?” he called out, glad for not a waver in his calm voice.

Watching Elthina go to the door to peer out herself, Sebastian turned on his heel and hurried down the steps to first meet the very shaken Sister Janelle.

“...was covered in blood!  But-but… Oh Andraste! I think he-he _growled_ when I approached him to see if he was hurt!  There was so much blood around him!” Sebastian heard her breathe to the other sister.  He touched her shoulder, gently drawing her attention as he rounded them.

“Sister Janelle, tell me, what happened?” he asked calmly.

Before the poor woman could answer, Elthina shut the door and approached.  “Sebastian,” she started, in a voice he could say nearly rivalled the warning tone his mother had used on him far too often as a youth, “I believe you know this elf.  The one with the markings I have seen gallivanting about with you and the Champion.”

“Oh yes!  I have seen him pass through here on occasion.  I believe that’s him!” Janelle tittered.

Sebastian gaped, looking between both women.   _“Fenris?”_  Throwing up his hood, he rushed passed Elthina and into the pouring rain, slamming the heavy door behind him with his boot heel.

There, Fenris sat along the stone balustrade, soaked to the bone and looking more morose than ever.  His head was bowed, blood seeping from a slash across his cheek, tinging the waterlogged ends of his stark white hair scarlet.  He seemed to be staring at his hands laying limp upon his lap. Immediately, Sebastian saw the blood coating the usual dull sheen of his right gauntlet.  It dripped in soft rivulets of rain along sharp edges. Well, that certainly didn’t bode well.

Cautiously, Sebastian approached his friend from the side, minding the diluted red that puddled around Fenris’s feet.  It seemed the rain had washed away most of the blood, but still it clung in dark stains across the leather of his tunic.  He hoped it was not all Fenris’s.

“Maker… Fenris, it’s _me,_ it’s Sebastian.”  He carefully settled his weight down onto the balustrade beside Fenris, ignoring the fact that soon his trousers would be quite soaked.  He put a few agonising feet of distance between them and asked, “What’s happened? Are you… are you alright?”

Nothing.  Nothing except for the increase in Sebastian’s pulse as Fenris began to breathe a bit harsher, clenching and unclenching both taloned fists.

“Please, let me get you inside-”

 _“No.”_ This time, Fenris lifted a cold gaze upon Sebastian.  He looked a damned sight. “I can’t cleanse my soul and neither can the Maker,” he muttered.

A small gust of wind caught around them and Sebastian grimaced slightly at the way the fur of his hood stuck wetly to his cheek.  “Maker damn this blasted rain!” He pushed his hood back with a sigh as rain blew across his face once more and the wind tousled his hair.  “What do you need of me Fenris? Please, just tell me what to do, if you won’t come inside. Let me help you.”

Dark brows pinched together above large, glassy green eyes.  “I was on my way back to the mansion but I…” Fenris’s gaze fell back to his hands.  “I do not want to be alone…”

Nodding, Sebastian stood.  “I must tell her Grace I’ll be out, but I’ll only be a moment.  Wait here… and then I will walk with you, Fenris.”

 _I will always walk with you,_ he thought, heart clenching.

 

Sebastian discreetly told Elthina his friend was in need of help, and with a curt nod and a knowing look of thinly veiled disapproval, she bid him his leave.  

Back out into the chilly evening, Sebastian walked back to Fenris and pulled a bundled, woolen blanket from beneath his arm he’d thought to grab.  He shook it out, but hesitated before covering Fenris’s shoulders. “May I?” he asked.

Bemusement flickered in Fenris’s eyes momentarily before he relented.  “It does not matter, but yes… it’s... alright.”

Sebastian scoffed and quickly wrapped the heavy blanket around Fenris as the elf stood.  “It will certainly matter if you catch your death out here, my friend.” He stepped away just as quickly and moved towards the stairs leading to the streets of Hightown.  

For a few steps, Fenris mutely followed after before almost stumbling to his knees.  He winced and grabbed his right thigh. Sebastian rushed to his side, frustration crawling through his veins when he had to pull back the reins on his instinct to _touch,_ to _comfort._ This close though, Sebastian could look over Fenris enough to see the large, fresh burn that hid at the back of his thigh several inches above the knee.  Jagged, burnt edges of black fabric revealed the stark contrast of shiny, inflamed, red flesh that had started blistering.

 _Magic,_ Sebastian seethed to himself.

“Fenris… I wish you would tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Jaw clenching, Fenris tried to stand on his own, and it pained Sebastian to not be able to help him.  He would not dare to touch Fenris when he was not welcomed to it, lest he make his friend feel worse.

But Sebastian felt some of the tension in his chest ease when Fenris let himself use him as a crutch.  Sebastian’s hands hovered at his waist.

“Do you- shall I help you walk?  Dinnae need you taking a tumble down the steps.”

“If only to alleviate your fragile conscience of its fretting,” Fenris said wryly, and Sebastian couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face as the two of them made their hobbled way down the steps.

Violent sheets of cold rain nipped at their skin as it fell from low grey skies, and Sebastian wished he could feel the warmth of Fenris’s body through his armour.  He did however, feel Fenris take a steeling breath as they approached the stairway that would lead them to the Hightown estates, and therefore, Fenris’s desolate haunt.

Halfway up, Fenris tensed and leaned more heavily against Sebastian, but it didn’t seem to be his leg bothering him like before.  Sebastian eased his grip from his torso reluctantly as Fenris dragged himself away. Leaning against the wall, Fenris pushed a now clean, clawed hand back through his long fringe and swallowed thickly.

He met Sebastian’s eyes for the briefest of seconds.  “It was Danarius…” Fenris trailed off and let his hand fall away from his slicked-back hair.

Panic and a heated stab of something possessive and protective crashed over Sebastian.   _Danarius?_  Surely Fenris must’ve had a run in with more of his blighted Tevinter lackeys and not- “What-what do you mean?”  Perhaps the question was foolish, but Sebastian did not want to believe that- _No._ “Did more of his slavers find you?”

 _“He_ found me, using my own _sister_ as _bait.”_ There was so much bitterness and poison in those words.

Without thinking, Sebastian stepped forward, reaching out.  He stopped and balled his hands into fists at his sides before he could potentially crowd Fenris.   He did not wish to make him feel cornered. “Fenris…” Anger, confusion, and revilement swelled inside him like bile at the thought of this disgusting human being bringing anymore harm to Fenris.   _“Where is he?_ We have to get you someplace safe.  You _cannot_ go back to that mansion.  Surely he will look for you-”

“Danarius is _dead,”_ Fenris cut him off.  “and so is my sister… along with a part of me I’ll never come to know.  And it was all at my own hands.” With a dull _clang,_ Fenris slammed a fist against the stone wall beside his hip in frustration.

Sebastian frowned, struck dumb.  Confession was something he’d been groomed to accept as a brother of the Chantry, and it was something he’d offered to Fenris before, though he’d never taken him up on it.  However, he was not entirely prepared for words unburdened from a heart he’d regrettably grown attached to over the years.

Fenris pushed off the wall, limping up the steps.  “Let’s go.” He sounded terribly resigned and beaten down, though Sebastian felt this should be some sort of victory for him.

He also knew too well, men could live in cages of their own making; one did not need bars or shackles to be kept from tasting freedom.

 

//

Dragging himself along, Fenris sat heavily on his bed, ignoring the pain that shot through his thigh.  Pain became a sign he’d made it through; no matter that there were times he regretted that sensation as a call to more suffering at the hands of Danarius.

But now, _no more._

After living for running, after plotting for vengeance against the ones who held his chains taut for so long, there was nothing more for him.  

Fenris watched as Sebastian carried on about the room with purpose that even he, himself never felt amongst these Maker-forsaken walls.   It was all routine, really. But the only routine he comfortably had here in the company of his friend did not usually involve Sebastian readying a table with poultices and salves and Fenris’s meagre supply of bandages procured and stocked by this overly thoughtful man.  It did not involve Sebastian setting down a pitcher of water instead of wine or brandy bottles nor asking if Fenris wanted privacy to change out of his soaked leathers instead of easing into a seat tucked close by him with a book held against his chest and a reassuring smile across his handsome face.

No, this time everything felt _wrong._

Yes, they’d given into times of helping mend one another’s battle wounds before, with Sebastian playing the tongue-clicking nursemaid for him more often than not.  But compared to then, every current motion felt detached and impersonal. He felt numb, or like a part of him dissolved in that rain which now trickled down in shadows upon the squares of cloudy daylight that fell against the floor tiles of this cold room.

And yet… all he wanted was for those warm, bowstring-calloused fingers that so easily put him back together time after time, to be the ones that finally took him apart; picking through the rubble of who he once was to see if there was still something good to be had… because Fenris could find nothing worth repairing.  His already weak foundations had been obliterated in less than half a day’s time.

He gave Sebastian a weak nod and watched gold and white armour, still gleaming with little beads of rain droplets, walk back through his bedroom door.

Shedding piece after piece of the armour that he’d worn protecting his former master, eluding him, and now _ending_ him, Fenris felt a hollow inside of him that gnawed greater than any threat of starvation or thirst.  He lit a crackling flame in the fireplace then dropped each piece of armour in front of the hearth to dry.   After pulling on a sleeved, long tunic that ended just above the burn on his leg, not bothering with the laces at his neck, he wondered if he shouldn’t just hide beneath his bed covers and tell Sebastian he could handle himself; that walking to the Chantry had been a mistake his disoriented mind had made for his feet.  

He’d forgone his usual choice of leggings for now, despite the bareness of his skin making him more uncomfortable than the freshness of his wounds.  Fenris had not let anyone see the breadth of Danarius’s brand on him in Maker knew how long.

Fenris padded to the doorway anyway, quietly calling out for Sebastian.  When the man appeared from sitting patiently upon the stairs, Fenris noted the flush in his face and the way he turned his gaze away politely, but quite obviously.  There were some things that remained unnatural without practice. Sebastian was likely a man who had once prided himself on being able to look upon whatever pleased him, but Fenris was not meant to be pleasing to the eye - he was always meant to be a glowering trophy moulded from successful experimentation, an intimidating oddity that played guard-dog for his master; a weapon, a conduit.

No matter their aesthetic flourish, the markings of a life enslaved did not a beautiful creature make.

Fenris led them back to the dining table that Sebastian had turned into his little makeshift infirmary, organised in a way that might impress even that annoying healer-mage.  He could feel the blood on his face caking, the ends of his hair sticking to it. With the boot knife of Sebastian’s that was set nearby, Fenris cut a thin strip of cloth from the already ragged hem of his tunic.  Sebastian watched him, confused. Grinning crookedly, Fenris wrung his hair out and tied it back with the green fabric. Sebastian reached out, and when Fenris did not flinch, a smile touched the very corners of his mouth and he ran his fingers through his damp hair, smoothing it away from his forehead, but nothing more.  Again, Fenris wanted those fingers to trail against his skin as well.

He didn’t know or care for the intricacies of _why,_ but he let Sebastian touch him on rare occasions.  They were only fleeting touches like that one, but Sebastian was so aggravatingly patient with him, Fenris knew he would never cross a line not permitted.

Sebastian moved away and dipped two clean washrags into a basin of water he’d previously poured.  “Here, have a seat and hold this to your leg. It isn’t very cold, but it will help. Not too much pressure,” he instructed Fenris, holding out one rag.  Fenris did so, though he already knew what to do for any injury endured. Perhaps somewhere inside, he still wanted to be led. Maybe he just liked to hear the man speak.  He was loathe to admit it, but he enjoyed the mild burr of Sebastian’s accent that turned to gentle coaxing, just as much as the heaviness of it when the man was particularly impassioned over something.  

But now, it was Fenris’s turn to speak and Sebastian’s time to listen, wasn’t it?  Even if all he could wrangle from his throat was an abbreviated version of events, he owed Sebastian an explanation for being the cause of all this concerned frowning that was likely to give the man premature wrinkles.

Internalising the wince at the cool cloth on his heated, raw flesh, Fenris spoke, “My sister and I were supposed to meet at the Hanged Man… I knew it was only too good to be true, yet still I went.  Danarius merely used Varania as bait, promising her training for a life as a _magister_ if only she could successfully lure his wayward _pet.”_  Sebastian remained unwavering but for another sympathetic knit in his brow, dabbing gently at the cut on Fenris’s cheek in silence.

“My sister - _a mage -_ vying to be the very thing that tore our family apart. The Maker surely has a cruel sense of irony,” Fenris murmured.  

Sebastian moved his hand away.  “But you defeated him?”

“The final price of my freedom was both their blood on my hands.”  Fenris waited for the meaning of his words to seep into Sebastian. He did not wish to spell it out any clearer.

“Fenris…” Sebastian sighed and crouched beside him.  Fenris knew he heard disappointment in that exhale. For a man whose family was slaughtered for political gain, he knew Sebastian could not understand what he’d done.  When it was your own flesh and blood that sold you out for selfish reasons... Fenris did not see a difference. Sebastian could not fathom the type of vengeance Fenris sought, and he did not expect him to.

He lifted the rag from his leg and tossed it on the table, trading it for a jar of salve.  He began running careful fingers over the burn as he spread the thick substance. As usual, those hated lines of lyrium remained clean and untouched, carving deeper grooves across his puffy skin.  His other hand twisted in the fabric of his tunic as the pain radiated through the markings. Sebastian ran a soothing line of touch along the top of Fenris’s hand with the pad of his thumb.

“And where was Hawke in all of this?”  Sebastian’s voice was tight, he didn’t look directly at Fenris any longer.  Instead, he stood and grabbed a roll of bandages, cutting it to length for him.

“She was there, along with a few of the others.  I told them I… needed time to think. To not follow me.  You are wondering why they didn’t stay my hand. You don’t have to say the words for me to know it.”

Sebastian sighed again. “I worry you’ve perhaps traded one burden for another in your vengeance, Fenris.  That is _all_ I am trying to say.”  His crystalline eyes were sorrowful, worried.  Fenris didn’t want to see it. He rose and paced in front of the hearth, nearly tripping on his armour.

“And what of _you?”_ Fenris growled and turned away. “Should I have stayed _your_ hand when we cut down Lady Harimann and the demon that tempted her family?!”

“No!  I simply know that bloodshed is not always the answer.  I could not stay idle kneelin’ in prayer hoping justice would come to those who cut down my family - hope that the Maker would protect me from the danger of their obsessive, covetous ways.  Or wonder how long before they found me in the Chantry if I did nothing. And I _could not_ risk the innocents that bide there with me, who Johane might’ve thought in her way t’get to _me._ But I spared the lives of those who were simply under a thrall, Fenris.   _Because it was right._ The others did not conspire against my family.  You saw them, how they acted before we killed that demon!  How repentant Flora was after…”

When Fenris turned, Sebastian was much closer than he anticipated.  He grabbed at the man’s arm. He wanted to shake him for his hypocrisy.  Just another mage using or felling those who prevented their rise to power.   _“My sister betrayed me._ We were the only family either of us had left and she threw that away for her own magical advancements!  I don’t care about _repentance._ No… your own family should not…”  Fenris jabbed a finger at Sebastian, but sighed in exhaustion and walked away, trying to calm his temper.  “Do you think I should have risked trust in her to see how long before she would do it again at the first offer of more damned power?  If she did not find help from another magister, then perhaps she too, would have found aid in the appeal of a demon.

“The only regret I will live with is that I lost the last key to my past.  Any hope of knowing who I was died along with Varania… and now I’m left with no one, yet again.  Tell me, what has magic touched that it does not spoil?”

All he had now was a name, a name belonging to a person that was just as much a stranger to him as his own sister and mother had become.  He would not know _“Leto”_ as surely as he would not recognise some passerby in the stinking alleyways of Darktown.

He felt a hand carefully curl atop his shoulder, turning him around.   _“You,_ Fenris.”

Perhaps Fenris thought the question rhetorical, unneeding of an answer.  Or perhaps it was how fervent Sebastian was that made him feel so run through.  “You are not broken. And surely you can see that you are not alone?”

It angered him, the adulation.  He wasn’t a child that needed carefully worded pity or consoling.  Fenris limped over to his bed and slumped down. “Your blandishments are unnecessary.”

Sebastian chuckled and grabbed the bandages again as he walked over to Fenris.  “I’ll ‘ave you know, ahm no’ saying these things in jest, Fenris.” He pulled out a small bulbed vial from a side pouch at his belt, the red tint to the liquid gave it away as a healing potion.  “But I can resort to flattery if I must in order to finish fixing you up. Your call. Now, drink this?” Sebastian held the vial out to Fenris and he took it with a sneer and mild grumbling.

//

Glass tinkled as the tiny shards skittered across the floor where the empty vial met its untimely demise.  Sebastian rolled his eyes, but a small, exasperated smile still managed to grace his face. “Feel better, do you?”

“From throwing the bottle or drinking the potion?”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter, though the potion will actually help you heal,” Sebastian retorted.

Fenris smirked and tipped his head to the side.  “Throwing the bottle, then.”

He sat beside Fenris on the bed and nodded to his leg.  “Shall I do the honours or would you like to? You need to cover that burn.  You dinnae want it to get worse and scar up.” The tension between them seemed less stifling and everything felt a bit more easy now.

Fenris snorted derisively at him.  “Yes, wouldn’t want to add to the grand collection I already have.  Go on and get it over with.” He motioned impatiently for Sebastian to get on with it, but he saw a small trace of a smile there, too.

The soft, gauzy cotton unspooled in Sebastian’s lap and he shimmied closer - hesitantly - towards Fenris as the elf straightened his leg out for him.  A wretched, nervous lump threatened to stick in Sebastian’s throat as he swallowed. Briefly, his eyes trailed down Fenris’s bare leg to the winding, silvery lines of lyrium accented by a few dots here and there.  He gently pressed the bandage to the outside of Fenris’s knee, using the material as a barrier between true touch; thankful for each inch of olive skin it covered as Sebastian wound it ‘round his wounded leg.

Perhaps he should be saying a verse of the Chant in his head to clear his mind, but the words did not come.  “You are exhausting,” Sebastian said, lighthearted, teasing. “But, you are in luck - friends need not agree on everything, Fenris. They do however, look out for one another, and that is all I mean to do for you.” He secured the bandage and leaned back away from Fenris, simultaneously thankful and regretting the distance between them now.

“Is that what we are?” Fenris asked, tilting his chin up.

“Beg pardon?”  Sebastian narrowed his eyes in confusion, thinking it should be more than apparent. “Of course.  I may not have many friends in Kirkwall and... I suppose even less now in Starkhaven, but I would be remiss to not call you one that I hold dear.”

A light shone in Fenris’s large eyes, one Sebastian so very, very rarely had the pleasure of witnessing.  It softened his features, and Sebastian revelled in being able to see this open expression without the cover of shaggy, white, shoulder-length hair.

Sebastian’s breath caught in his chest as Fenris fingered the straps of the bracer on his right arm.  He sat there, frozen, watching the flick and fall of each metal buckle, then Fenris removed the leather glove and dragged his fingertips along Sebastian’s palm.  Folding their fingers together, Fenris slowly brought Sebastian’s hand to the side of his face and instantly nuzzled into the touch, eyes closed. Sebastian could feel the raised cut along his cheek, already healing; the smoothness of his skin, devoid of the rasp of stubble that lined his own jaw.  He dared not move his fingers to feel more than was offered.

Fenris opened his eyes and met Sebastian’s.  “You hold me dear?”

“Fenris… I...”

 _“You hold me dear,”_ Fenris repeated firmly, no longer a question.

“So very,” Sebastian whispered as Fenris scooted close enough that their hips touched.

The moment Fenris leaned forward and moved his hand to brush a strand of wet, russet hair from where it lay over Sebastian’s brow, he felt his heart still.  And when Fenris moved that same hand down Sebastian’s face to cup his jaw, thumb tracing once over his bottom lip, Sebastian thought it best if the blasted floor would just open up, swallowing him down to the Void forever.

Instead, knowing Fenris was reaching passed his own anxieties and fears, Sebastian made things easier for the both of them and moved a little closer, letting Fenris know anything he had to give was welcome.

“You aren’t alone, Fenris,” Sebastian reminded.  Words kept his mind busy, distracted.

Fenris’s thumb pressed against his lips again as if trying to feel the words that left Sebastian’s mouth.  He felt studied with each graze to his mouth, each shaky caress against his cheek that was followed by deep green eyes.  But Sebastian was too locked into the moment to threaten it with his own mapping touch.

Fenris’s eyes finally held Sebastian’s gaze, unwavering, and he felt entirely stripped bare.  “Is this all that we are?” Fenris asked, the rough timbre of his voice gone quiet.

He knew not how to answer that.  Sebastian did not wish to lie, though he wasn’t sure he could face the repercussions of the raw honesty that wanted to spill forth from his heart.  

“I would have you by my side in _any_ capacity you would allow me, Fenris.  In turn, I would stay by you, as your friend, as your confidant, as… however you should so want _me.”_ His own voice quaked nervously, but he pressed on. “Anything… anything would be enough, s’long as I am with you, _m’eudail.”_

Fenris made a soft little noise at the back of his throat and closed his eyes, bumping their foreheads together like an affectionate cat.  The tip of his nose brushed along the side of Sebastian’s and the breath of a sigh ghosted over his mouth as Fenris shifted and pulled his face closer.  He wanted to erase that sliver of space between them and kiss him, and damn the consequences. Damn what the Grand Cleric would think, their friends, the people of Starkhaven, or anyone opposed to either of them living a life for themselves.  

A wee, niggling part of his conscience thought he should fall to the familiar shield his piety had become, but _Maker’s breath,_ was he weak for the touch of this man.

 _“You have seen me when no other would recognise my face… You composed the cadence of my heart.”_ Each blasphemous word that left Sebastian’s mouth brushed their lips together just enough to make his heart race with the mimic of a kiss.  He could nearly feel the thrum of Fenris’s pulse in his wrist where it rested against his jaw, fingers still twisting and twining in his hair.

Fenris swallowed, a hitch in his breath. “Am I threatening your precious vows?”

Sebastian chuckled a bit at that and pulled back slightly to look at him. “Fenris, I have not renewed my-” He tried to say, but Fenris won him over with a request he could not argue.

_“Then stay and be with me.”_

Fingers were tight in his hair, lips pressed against his with the chase of a slick tongue.  The kiss was nearly violent in its urgency. Sebastian’s own fingers explored the curve of a sun-freckled cheekbone, the high point of an ear; the heated, smooth expanse of Fenris’s neck that arched as Sebastian pulled him closer.  From his throat, Sebastian traced the rumble of a moan as it rose from Fenris’s chest. He wanted to replace fingertips with lips, but Fenris’s mouth was too intoxicating to leave for even a moment.

The taste on his tongue was medicinal from the potion, but still it stoked a hunger in Sebastian he now knew he’d been ignorant of for so long.  Fenris’s groan of clear frustration met his lips as he felt him tug against the straps to his chestplate. He laughed against his mouth, which only seemed to heighten Fenris’s aggravation with the offending armour.

They made their fumbling way through toggles and buckles, each piece of metal and soggy cloth and leather set down on the floor with less reverence than should have been offered to Sebastian’s expensive royal armour.  But truth be told, that was the last thing he worried over being careful with. He even managed to blush at the smirk that curved Fenris’s mouth as he removed the belt that bore the face of Andraste Herself.

Lamely, Sebastian realised he’d forgotten his bow and quiver in his haste to help Fenris back at the Chantry.  But Maker have mercy on anyone who would dare to interrupt them with petty threats of burglary or violence.

He let Fenris swathe himself in the covers atop the bed before joining him upon invitation.  And as he finally shed his threadbare tunic, Sebastian averted his eyes respectfully. Fingertips pressed to his cheek brought him back to the moment, and he could see how Fenris wanted to hide from his own skin.  Shame now burned a heat in Fenris’s cheeks as his pleasure waned.

“Fenris…” Sebastian exhaled his name. “As long as you’ll let me, I will prove to you that you are whole.” He leaned down to kissed him softly and let Fenris pull him further to be draped in the cover of his body.  “That you _are_ beautiful,” Sebastian continued within the break of another kiss.

He gasped and his heart leapt into his throat when Fenris ghosted his hands along his ribs, only to pull his hips down roughly into the cage of his thighs.  Arching his back, he rut up against Sebastian, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Fenris made no move to soothe the bite with softness, instead kissing Sebastian as if he meant to devour him in his passion.

When he pulled away, those serpentine-coloured eyes were filled with a painful worry, and it knotted Sebastian’s gut.  “Are you alright?” he asked. He wanted nothing more than for Fenris to be without fear and worry - he wanted him to only know the sanctuary he meant to bring him, the _safety._

//

Fenris swallowed and turned his head away on the pillow.  He did not want to witness the truth he already knew would be written across Sebastian’s kind face. “If you truly mean to return to Starkhaven and take back your throne… Know I would follow you, but…” He made a frustrated sound, feeling Sebastian’s eyes on him.  His hands smoothed over Fenris’s chest, touch lighter over the branching marks. “You will want to marry some wealthy noble girl of powerful standing, eventually. It is understandable. Inevitable. Your people will all expect you to right the wrongs against your bloodline as well as continue the Vael lineage.  Produce proper heirs to a throne… Not bring a new sort of shame.”

He was resigned to it.  He would protect Sebastian in the only capacity he knew he could not possibly fail at - one he was trained for.  Matters of the heart, they were not meant for either of his lives lived, not past nor present, and certainly not in whatever future he had left to build for himself.  He’d been a dewy-eyed fool to let himself think otherwise, for even a heavy breath drawn in a moment of weakness.

“No,” Sebastian suddenly held his face in both hands, staring intensely at him with eyes so blue they rivalled the glow of his markings.  “That is what _they_ may want, not I.  I could ‘ave royal advisors tittering and nagging at me endlessly, but I will _always want you, Fenris._ An’ I would not ‘ave anyone take your place at my side, as _my one,_ my equal.  Please… do not doubt my l- do not doubt how I feel for you.”

Fenris practically lunged for his mouth as he wrapped his arms around his back, fingernails pinking thin scratches across Sebastian’s shoulder blades.  

//

Groaning, Sebastian slid a tentative hand down to grip Fenris’s thigh as another roll of his hips slotted Fenris’s cock against his own hardness.  Fenris’s mouth drifted down to his jaw, his neck; searing hot kisses against his flesh that led a hoarse whisper, “Would you worship me? Or would you tame the wolf?”

Sebastian slid down Fenris’s body, careful to press a kiss between the lines of lyrium that tapered off to his taut belly.   “I would worship the beast I could bring out of you, I would do whatever you ask of me.” He kissed and nipped the sharp ridge of muscle leading to his groin and Fenris arched off the bed.

“As would I,” Fenris said, breathless.  “I may not ever kneel before the Maker, Sebastian, but I would kneel before you on your rightful throne.”

He knew the insinuation there, but Sebastian stilled anyway.  His brows pinched together as he looked up at Fenris, then let out an airy laugh.  “No, _never kneel.”_ Suckling the flesh of his inner thigh, Sebastian hummed as Fenris shivered.  “Never kneel, Fenris. Leave that to me, _m’eudail.”_

Dipping his head between Fenris’s thighs, Sebastian licked a wide stripe up his length.  Fenris sighed and Sebastian took his cock in hand, shifting his foreskin up and down the leaking head before taking Fenris into his mouth entirely.  

Above him, Fenris squirmed and clutched fingers in his hair and dug at his shoulder.  Curses in Tevene left his lips as he tilted his hips up and down, tentatively pushing himself deeper into Sebastian’s mouth.  He moaned and swallowed appreciatively around Fenris’s shaft, tasting the sweet salt that smeared his tongue.

Several rapid bobs of his head and Fenris tugged harder on his hair.  Sebastian watched him throw his head back against the pillow, his chest quaking with each breath.  

“I… _Sebastian…”_ Fenris groaned.

Sebastian pulled off of him, tongue teasing the head.  “Tell me what you need.”

Fenris didn’t answer him with words, though.  He glanced over to his rickety bedside table and reached for a corked vial.  Pressing it to Sebastian’s hand, he told him sternly, “Do not ask questions.”

The vial held a viscous oil of pale gold, and Sebastian laughed because indeed, he did not need to ask questions about his lover’s want and desires.  “I am at your beck and call, Fenris.”

He leaned back and rose on his knees, uncorking the vial.  Fenris caught him off guard as he sat up, only to bend forward, grabbing Sebastian’s hips to mouth at his cock.  Oil dribbled sloppily over his fingers as Fenris’s lips closed over him, and he gave in to the sensation, closing his eyes momentarily.  The angle was awkward, surely, but Fenris made up for it by swirling his tongue around his cockhead slowly, massaging the little bundle of nerves that caused him to cry out.

Sebastian nudged Fenris’s shoulder lightly until he laid back down.  He sighed at the loss of his warm mouth but tried to remember his patience.  Fingers of one hand coated thoroughly, he poured more to coat his length then recorked the vial.  He bent to kiss and lick at Fenris as he circled his entrance before breaching him slowly with one finger, making sure Fenris was alright with each small press forward.

He waited for an encouraging nod from Fenris and fucked him open on one finger first, then gently added another when a bid for more was begged on a whisper.  Sebastian rested his cheek against Fenris’s inner thigh and watched the slow movement of his fingers in and out of his body and the reactions each curl of those digits brought out of him.  Sebastian thought he was the most perfect creature he’d ever seen.

If Fenris would be his salvation from duty to the Chantry, to his city, to whatever stopped him from _living,_ he’d be a stalwart sanctuary for Fenris with willing arms to embrace and protect him.  With Fenris’s bullheadedness, he’s sure he’d prefer to be the one doing the protecting, but alas… Sebastian smiled unconsciously.

“Something amusing?” Fenris huffed.

Sebastian’s smile widened and with one last deep curl of his fingers, he climbed up Fenris’s body to pepper open mouthed kisses to his chest, “I absolve you, Fenris,” he murmured against his neck, “from guilt,” his jaw, “from fear, from sin,” then finally his mouth, “and the shackles of your past.”

Fenris deepened the kiss with a hand clutching the nape of his neck.  He was beautifully crushing and suffocating in his passion and Sebastian did not want to know a future without it.

They broke away from each other enough for Fenris to brush their noses together and whisper, “Come what may, _I am yours.”_

A kiss to his lips again, then his shoulder and Sebastian moved to lie beside him.  He guided Fenris onto his side and pulled him close so his back was tightly flush with chest.  Again he made sure Fenris felt safe, and again he received a sidewards glare and grumble about whether he was going to continue to mother-hen him or fuck him.

Sebastian felt compelled to answer with actions rather than words.

Careful of his injury, he lifted Fenris’s thigh so he’d rest his leg over Sebastian’s.  He aligned himself against Fenris’s hole, teasingly at first until a hand clawed at his arse, egging him on.

“Tell me what you want,” Sebastian breathed against Fenris’s ear and nipped at the sharp curve of his jaw.

Fenris arched against him as Sebastian eased the head of his cock inside him.  “Uhhn… you, always you,” he moaned and reached up and behind him to tangle his fingers in Sebastian’s hair, directing their mouths together.

Sebastian held himself steady with short thrusts until he was seated in the complete heat of Fenris’s body.  He gripped Fenris’s thigh once more, lifting it, opening him up to feel him deeper. They swallowed down one another’s contented groans as Sebastian began rolling his hips slowly.  Fenris laughed against his mouth and Sebastian felt his heart might burst. He grabbed for Sebastian’s hand on his leg and tangled their fingers together, pulling their hands to his chest.

He knew then, that this was what he wanted more than anything - that this was what his life had been missing.  What he’d searched for at the bottom of whisky bottles and the lonely company of pretty bed warmers in brothels:  Fenris, his glorious stormcloud, who writhed against him, who exasperated him at times, who filled his heart until it ached, who carried the sweet scent of rain on his skin.

Sebastian pressed his mouth to his shoulder, feeling the tingle of the lyrium there.  He gripped his hand tighter. For now, they did not need to put words to saccharine confessions their bodies could so easily spell out for them.

They did not know what awaited them in this city or the next, what force may stand against them in the days to come.  But the beat of a hundred war drums could never compete with the beat of Fenris’s heart against his palm.

 

The sound of the rainstorm outside swelled like an ovation in their honour but come nightfall, the stars stood still and the winds did quiet to the rhythm of their breathing.  And they slept close and twined with the knowledge that in the aftermath of anything, together they could still stand tall.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, the little thing Seb says to Fenris about the "cadence of my heart" is a paraphrase from the Canticle of Trials 1:11  
> I also paraphrased the Chant, specifically "And the stars stood still, the winds did quiet"
> 
> And lastly, "m'eudail" is a Scots Gaelic endearment akin to darling.
> 
> I feel like I've likely forgotten another reference... but anyway, comments, kudos, & feedback are my fuel, and more than welcome<3


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